| Not for the first time, not for the last, they are grateful for their golden sister, the way she effortlessly picks up slack, smooth voice easing into the voids left in the fire dancer's heedless and destructive wake. Shoulder shivers against scales, reassurance, confirmation, and grateful acceptance of Amaris' support. The absence of Semira still weighs heavy on her mind- to be sure, the girl had never been quite as close to her other cousin, though her love for the dragonet is not diminished by this slight distance between their hearts. Yet now a shadow passes over that affection, wings of doubt on a body of disease, whispering profanities into her mind. Old fears, aching abandonment, hungry loneliness and craven dismay; all are ignited, and just as quick snuffed, shoved into the ever-filling box at the back of her mind marked later, a box with a lid which scarcely will close but what is the child Sultana to do?
She sighs a breath of stiff relief, a smile finally threatening to light the edges of her inky lips as some of her burden, her fear, is relieved. Ears turn to follow the conversation between the King and his crafter, a curt nod affirming his question on restrictions. Her mind is working, churning, whirling- Kaj has freed her of some small stress by asking nothing in return, yet she is reluctant to leave him with empty hooves, fully devoid of any remittance. "Thank you," she breathes, voice low with relief, a quick glance thrown to her cousin for support. A pause; she tries to collect her thoughts, carefully arranging them in a cautious mind before daring to form some semblance of words. Dark eyes trace the ancient familiarity of Kaj; she swallows, taking comfort in the form from her youth, before drawing herself back into Sultana stance.
Her piercing gaze never leaves his baby blues.
"The Dragon's Throat thanks you," she begins, and falters, for the words grate upon her skin like rugged stone, too formal, too false, guised in pretense and born of guile. No- the girl cannot do this. The act is foolish. The words unclean.
"The Edge will always be home," she tells him, dark eyes earnest and deep voice raw. "Even though we have outgrown it, our hearts - our blood - still haunts these lands." It is unclear if by our she means herself and Amaris, or Natraj, or perhaps all three. At her hooves the kitsune nods his assent, though to be sure he is not too shy to confess that he much prefers sand to moss.
"You are our family, as much as the Throat, and..." here she hesitates again. Would Gaucho be appalled by her initiative? He said to "do the things"... "I want my families to be united. While I am Sultana" (this feels strange to say aloud) "I hope we can renew the friendship and alliance between Dragon's Throat and the World's Edge."
There. She's done. The words fall eloquently from her tongue, yet she silently shudders, the quiet dancer unaccustomed to speaking with such grace. At last she lets her visage fall, attention turning to the glazier, who has been busily working away. She does not wish Kaj to see her weakness, not now as she owns her new position, authority. Intently she examines the near-finished bauble of glass, awed by the delicate beauty of its design, and when Parelia sets it between the girls it is the shadow brother who lifts it up between his teeth, holding it carefully in a minuscule jaw. Fire Dancer nods to Parelia; the item is beautiful, and a selfish part of her nearly wishes to keep it, for the symbolism within. Their mission accomplish, her voice spent, the girl is ready to end her adventure, to return to the safety of the Dragon's Throat and stay there forever, perhaps buried deep in the sand.
THE FIRE DANCER
for it was I who walked among the falling stars, and did not burn | |
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